


Castiel's Boy - Lesson Three: To the Brim

by DC_Derringer



Series: Castiel's Boy [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Plug, Bottom Dean, Crossdressing, Dom/sub, Feeding Kink, M/M, Sounding, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2554127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DC_Derringer/pseuds/DC_Derringer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel loves Dean so much, he wants to fill him to the absolute brim with food, and love, and of course cock. Can Dean handle this much? Of course he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castiel's Boy - Lesson Three: To the Brim

Dean was antsy. Castiel had sent him a weird text earlier, saying he’d come around at 7 o’clock, which was unusual because it was so early. Sam was parked on the bed with his laptop and looked like he wasn’t going to move for a good while. Usually, Dean slipped out while he was sleeping to avoid any questions about his whereabouts. The only solution was to get out and try not to look too suspicious about it.

“Think I’m gonna head out for a drink,” Dean said as casually as he could, for the life of him unable to remember how he usually informed Sam that he was heading out.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Sam said, stretching his long limbs and then setting his laptop aside. Eagerly he got off the bed and started looking for his shoes.

“Uh, no, wait… I’m going alone,” Dean said, stumbling over his words as little as possible. He glanced nervously at his watch – 6:59. Castiel ran on Dean’s watch so Dean could count down the seconds before Castiel showed up with exact accuracy.

“What, you got a hot date or something?” Sam asked with a teasing laugh as he watched Dean checking his watch.

“No!” exploded from Dean’s mouth in a hot rush, a too quick and passionate denial for such an innocent question. Sam cocked his head questioningly, looking at Dean in his frustration and embarrassment.

“How the hell do you have a date? We’ve only been in town for a day.”

“I don’t have a date,” Dean said hurriedly, even though he knew Sam wasn’t going to give this up. “I’m just going out to… to-”

“Dean, why weren’t you in the other room?” Castiel asked, suddenly in the motel room with a rush of air, surprising both of the Winchesters. Dean almost swallowed his tongue in the middle of his terrible lie, and then would have thrown it back up again as he watched Sam looking at the both of them, observing with that calculating little mind of his, and then his eyes widening with realization.

“Oh,” Sam said as a grin cracked over his lips.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Dean started to say.

“Dean, we need to get going. I made reservations for 7:30,” Castiel said.

“Reservations?” Sam asked as a grin slipped over his lips, his curiosity and understanding growing.

“Cas, can we please get out of here?” Dean asked with a resigned sigh. It was better to escape now. Sam was going to ask him about five million questions later, so he could at least get some relief beforehand to strengthen his mental state. In a wink, he and Castiel were in a different motel room where they could have some privacy. Then, Dean turned on Castiel with a scowl.

“A little discretion, Cas? I haven’t told Sam about us yet.”

“Something I seem to recall telling you to do before,” Castiel said sternly. “There’s no need to lie to him, and he seemed please about our date, so this will make things easier.”

Dean grumbled a reluctant agreement. He’d imagined the conversation with Sam a few hundred times in his head, wondering which would be harder for Sam to overcome, that he fucking a man, or fucking an angel. Or really, getting fucked by an angel, but that was a detail that would never, ever come up in any conversation. None of his imagined conversations had ended so neatly, so it was a relief that Sam had smiled when he figured it out. There’d probably be more fall out, but he’d worry about that later. Something else was niggling in the back of his mind.

“What reservations?” Dean asked.

“I’m taking you out for dinner,” Castiel said.

“Why?” Dean asked after he considered all the possible ways that could play into kinky, dominating sex that would leave him vibrating with pleasure for the rest of the week, and nothing came to mind.

“Because you deserve a nice dinner,” Castiel said. “And because I want to take you out on a date.”

“A date?” Dean asked, somewhat perplexed by the word. Castiel had fucked him in every position possible, filled up every orifice, even his cock with a particularly impressive set of sounds, but they’d never strayed from the bedroom. They’d never spent much time together without Dean getting naked and pushed to orgasmic extremes.

“We’ve been doing this for several months now. Exclusively,” Castiel added that last word sternly, and it made Dean swallow hard at the possessive tone in his voice. “I think it’s time I took you out.”

“So we’re a couple now? Like boyfriends?” Dean said, trying to laugh off the anxiety rising up in his throat at the potential meaning of this date.

“Yes,” Castiel said simply, and Dean was surprised into silence at Castiel’s declaration, but with it came a quieting. The anxiety ebbed away and Dean could feel his body relaxing slightly. So he nodded in agreement, lowering his eyes just a little, submitting and agreeing to Castiel’s claim.

“Good boy,” Castiel praised. “Now let’s get you dressed. I got this for you.”

Castiel waved his arm, and a three piece suit appeared laid out on the bed. It was dark, charcoal grey with a thin, almost imperceptible lighter grey pinstripe. Folded beside it were a pressed white shirt, a light pink tie, and shiny black dress shoes. Dean whistled at the sight of it, and again at the touch. Soft and smooth Italian silk, light weight and beautiful.

  
“The tie isn’t really my style,” Dean said fingering the pearly pink material.

“It matches the rest,” Castiel said, and with another wave, more clothes appeared.

Dean swallowed hard, his eyes widening at the swath of pink that appeared on the bed next to the suit. Thigh high fishnets with a delicate floral design stitched into the top band. Smooth silk and lace panties with a bow in the center. A corset, pink with embroidered white flowers, stiff ribs and lacings all the way up the back. A garter belt to hold everything together.

Dean shivered hard and he could feel his cock swelling up in his pants, the sight of the panties making his mouth water as he imagined the feel of them against his chubbed up cock. The rest of it he could take or leave, but the panties. He looked pleadingly at Castiel, waiting for a command.

“Put everything on. I’ll help you with the corset.”

Dean was out of his clothes in record time and grabbed the panties off the bed. It was only when Castiel tsked that Dean slowed down, took his time because Castiel was watching and he’d picked these clothes out special for Dean. He pulled the panties up slowly, watching how Castiel reacted as he bent over, showing the flared base of his blue buttplug that was nestled between his cheeks. He’d put it in as was expected of him right after he got Castiel’s text. The panties fit easily around his hips, but his cock filled them to capacity, stretching against the delicate fabric and leaving a wet spot dewing at the front.

Next came the stockings, which Dean discovered with great annoyance could not be pulled up just like socks. With a flash of insight, he recalled women pulling on their stockings the next morning and imitated that memory, bunching up the stocking and slowly extending it over his calf, up his knee, until finally it fitted tightly around his thigh. He resisted the temptation to run his hands back down the silky length.

The garter belt held the thigh-highs in place, and Dean felt himself harden imagining the garters framing his ass. He’d always liked the look of it on women and knew he must look good in it as well.

The last piece was the corset and Dean looked at it with complete incomprehension. Fortunately, Castiel took over at that point and wrapped the silky pink material around Dean’s chest. It wrapped around easily, and Castiel deftly worked each hook and eye into place, about twenty all together, working the corset fast around Dean’s chest from behind.

“How’s it feel?” Castiel asked, running his hand up and down the smooth panels.

“Feels fine,” Dean said with a little shrug. Panties he knew he loved. The stockings and garter he was warming up to. But he didn’t really get the point of the corset since he didn’t have any tits to prop up with it.

“How about this then?” Castiel asked, and he pulled on the lacings of the corset, constricting it slightly around Dean’s chest. Instinctively, Dean drew in a deep breath to challenge the compression and feel out the confines of the corset. It held firmly. He nodded. It still felt OK.

“And this?” Castiel asked again, tightening the lacings even more. Dean let out a little groan as he felt any softness around his middle sinking in, deceptively forming an hour-glass figure. He took another deep breath and that was shallower than the last.

“That’s good,” Dean said.

“Just a little more,” Castiel said, giving the lacings one last tug before tying them tightly into place to hold Dean in all over. Dean groaned again and was about to protest, but let it die on his lips. He wasn’t in pain, he wasn’t even terribly uncomfortable, so he knew he wouldn’t get his way. Besides, letting Castiel have his way always ended up very nicely. It was good incentive to behave and do what he was asked.

Laced in, Dean moved experimentally. He couldn’t quite bend how he wanted, and he had to focus more on his breathing. He couldn’t hunt like this, and he couldn’t imagine doing it every day, but he’d certainly survive. He reached for the white shirt on the bed, ready to finish dressing. But Castiel tsked at him.

“I’m not done dressing you yet,” Castiel said gently.

Dean turned around and like Pavlov’s dog, his cock jumped and his mouth started to water when he saw a sounding plug in Castiel’s hand. With his anal plug already in, Dean whined at the thought of being stuffed completely full, front and back for whatever it was Castiel had in mind for him. He watched, whining softly in anticipation as Castiel smoothed lube over the tiny little plug. When Dean jut his hips forward, offering up his hard cock peeking over the brim of his panties, Castiel slowly eased it into his urethra. Dean shuddered, even though he was trying his best to stay still. The little plug was only about two inches long, but a little thicker than the usual sounding rods. He also noticed, quite regrettably, that the plug was solid, not hollowed out for piss or cum. That promised a long night.

“OK?” Castiel asked soothingly, rubbing his finger over the bar that kept the plug from sliding all the way in, crowning out of Dean’s slit. Dean nodded shakily.

“Now you can dress,” Castiel said after he looked Dean over once again, noting the very fine tremor all over his skin, flush with anticipation and wonder about how the night would unfold. He noticed just a bit of peevishness as Dean dressed. Clearly, the promise of a good dinner was not precisely what Dean wanted. Castiel smiled. Too bad.

The suit was like armor, and by the time Dean was fully dressed, he had composed himself. He held himself more stiffly than he normally did because of the corset, but no one who didn’t know him well would notice, and anyone who knew him well wouldn’t be able to guess the reason. Castiel was very pleased with his control, and rewarded him with a nuzzling kiss. Dean accepted it, his bundled up heat leaking through his lips. He was reluctant to let Castiel go when he pulled back, taking his lip between his teeth to keep him close.

“Behave,” Castiel scolded. “Are you ready to go?”

“Why don’t we stay here?” Dean asked, leaning in for more nipping kisses. Castiel tilted his face away, amused by Dean’s attempts at seduction.

“We’ll miss our dinner reservation if you don’t behave.”

“Who cares about dinner when you’ve got me all trussed up like this? Don’t you want to eat me up?”

“One last kiss, then we have to go,” Castiel conceded.

“Sure,” Dean said, grinning with promises in his eyes as he tugged Castiel up against his body, claimed his mouth hotly, showed him how good he was with his lips and tongue. So much better than a dinner together. Castiel moaned into his mouth and Dean was careful not to get too cocky in his own head unless Castiel got suspicious. He took a step back, toward the bed, pulling Castiel with him. If he could just get onto the bed, there’d be no way Castiel could resist him.

A cool breeze again his cheek surprised him enough to open his eyes and when he looked around, he found they were in a dark part of a parking lot in front of a very nice looking restaurant.

“Oh come on!” Dean huffed.

“That’s enough Dean,” Castiel said, tapping Dean’s lips in reprimand. “I put a lot of thought into this evening. Don’t you trust me to take care of you?”

Dean mumbled something, and when that got him a stern look, he straightened up and answered more clearly. “Yes, sir.”

Castiel nodded with approval and then led them into the restaurant with his hand lightly pressing as the small of Dean’s back, ruffling his fingers along the lacings of the corset covertly. There was a line of patrons waiting for a table, but Castiel strode up to the host and once he said his name, James Novak, they were led immediately to a table. Dean hesitated for a moment by his chair as he had to work his body differently to sit comfortably, but he eventually settled and took his time to look around the room. It did not go beyond his notice that their table was in the exact center of the room, and there was no long table cloth, so that meant they certainly weren’t going to be getting up to anything in the restaurant. Dean did not hide his pout.

“You’re awfully cute when you pout,” Castiel teased as he looked over the menu. “But don’t keep it up for my benefit. It’s not going to get you anything.” Dean turned his pout into a scowl, but this was also ignored as Castiel flagged the waiter over to put in their order. “We’ll have a bottle of the Ruffiano Chianti and start off with the bacon wrapped scallops. For dinner, I’ll have the Cesar salad, and he’ll have the surf and turf platter. Baked potato on the side, and ranch dressing for the salad.” The waiter scribbled down their order hurriedly and Castiel handed back the menu.

“I’m supposed to eat all that?” Dean asked, incredulous. Sure, he could eat like any full-blooded grown man, packing away a couple burgers, fries and a few cold ones, but this seemed like more than that.

“And dessert,” Castiel said, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he looked idly at the dessert menu propped up on their table.

“Is this… I don’t know what you’re doing,” Dean said, faltering on the words. It was a game, he knew that, he just didn’t know what it was. He didn’t like not knowing the rules, and Castiel didn’t usually leave him in the dark if he asked.

“Feeding you,” Castiel said simply, but when that did not wipe the confusion from Dean’s face, he went on. “You know I love you, right Dean?” Castiel asked. Dean swallowed at hearing those words, direct and completely lucid. They’d said them before, or mostly, Dean had said them in the throes of intense orgasm, and Castiel had murmured back agreement with him as he came down and wrapped himself in Castiel’s aftercare. Sometimes, the words would be curled on his lips, ready to fly out when he saw Castiel after a week apart, but Castiel would save him. Nod his head and say “Yes, me too,” and that would be enough. So he nodded, yes, he knew Castiel loved him.

“I like taking care of you,” Castiel went on. “Anticipating your wants and needs. I’ve taken good care of you in the bedroom, and now I want to extend that. You’re starving for affection, Dean. This is another way to fill you up.”

Dean felt his cheeks warming up at Castiel’s tender and innuendo laced words, at once aroused and flattered. He nodded in understanding, and a nervous laugh bubbled up in his throat. “You know, you don’t have to fill me up all in one night,” he said.

“But I can try,” Castiel said, teasingly.

And try he did. The bacon wrapped scallops, it turned out, were mostly for Dean. They came on a delicate platter with six fat scallops wrapped up nice and tight – rather like Dean was, he couldn’t help but notice. Castiel ate one, Dean ate three. Castiel forked another and held it out for Dean to eat, which he did after one nervous look around the room, and then a shrug of his shoulders to cast off any fear of voyeurs. He’d done much worse in front of an audience. Then Castiel fed him the last one. Dean finished off his first glass of wine while he ate, and Castiel eagerly refilled his glass. His own was barely touched.

Dean’s salad came first. He tried to offer Castiel a bite from his own fork, as Castiel had fed him the scallops, but Castiel shook his head with a wicked smile, and watched avidly until Dean finished his plate. Castiel even offered him a piece of bread to sop up the last of the dressing.

Their dinners arrived at the same time, Dean’s a heaping plate of filet mignon, three jumbo stuffed shrimp, and a fully loaded baked potato on the side. Castiel’s by contrast was a small mound of leaves and croutons with some lightly grilled chicken strewn on top. Castiel didn’t even pick up his fork though, his eye were glued on Dean, dreamily so, waiting for him to start eating.

Dean paced himself. He took small bites, chewed slowly, sipped water more often than the wine that Castiel repeatedly kept filled, so he wasn’t sure how much he’d actually drank. But every time he looked up, he had to look away. With every bite, Castiel was watching him, his own food barely touched. There was praise in his eyes, like when Dean was sucking his cock exceptionally well, or taking a hard spanking with barely a sound. He wasn’t saying those words Dean loved so much, ‘good boy,’ but he could see them in Castiel’s eyes, and so he continued to eat.

There were a few bites left on Dean’s plate. A few cuts of steak, half a shrimp, several bites of his baked potato. Dean moved his fork toward the steak, but Castiel touched his hand, holding it still. Dean looked up, waiting for instruction.

“Save a little room for dessert,” Castiel said. Anyone in the room would have thought his smile was rich and full of love. Dean knew it for the wicked, convoluted planning that it was. With great effort he held back a groan at the prospect of dessert. Dean sat up straighter in his seat, trying to relieve the tension around his torso. The corset, tight before dinner, was even more constricting than before. If it was just his pants, he would have discreetly unbuttoned them beneath his suit jacket. But that wasn’t an option.

“Can we have an order of the apple crumble, with some vanilla ice cream on the side?” Castiel asked as the waiter came by to clear their plates. Castiel had made a good show with his own dinner, but nothing compared to the desolation of Dean’s plate.

“Sorry, that was the closest they had to pie,” Castiel said, his face full of genuine regret.

“Cas, I ain’t got any more room in me,” Dean said, his voice on edge.

“There’s always room for dessert,” Castiel said.

“You gotta have some too then,” Dean said as sternly as he could. He had no power over Castiel, he knew that. Castiel never did anything he didn’t plan on doing anyway.  
“Maybe a few bites,” Castiel said. A few minutes later, the crumble arrived, steaming hot with a heavy scoop of ice cream melting on top, and two dessert spoons. Castiel took both and dug into the heaping sweet, making more steam burst through. He blew on it, scooped up a little ice cream, and held it out for Dean.

Dean leaned forward, taking it and keeping his eyes locked with Castiel’s, seeking out approval. As his lips closed around the dessert, his heart pulsed up into his throat at the thoughtful gleam in Castiel’s eyes. Castiel was so proud of him for eating, it was bizarre, but Dean could feel it. He eagerly ate the second bite that was offered, and then the third. He could barely taste the cinnamony sweetness of the apple crumble as it melted on his tongue, he was so swept up in how Castiel was looking at him.

Arousal had been dim between his legs throughout dinner. His butt plug was a gentle reminder as he shifted in his seat, and the sound in his cock was another. When he moved, he could feel the rub of the silk covering his body, and the all-encompassing squeeze of the corset. But as Castiel watched him, fed him each bite of dessert, filling Dean to absolute capacity, Dean could see Castiel’s arousal growing.

Castiel’s arousal would be hard to spot for anyone who didn’t know him, didn’t get fucked hard by him on a regular basis. His breath didn’t shorten, his eyes didn’t dilate, and he didn’t fidget or get husky voiced. Just, the intensity of his gaze increased, filling with hunger. His motions grew stiffer, tighter, more calculated. It grew inside him, in all these tell-tale signs that taught Dean his lover was about to lose control, and he would be the target.

That was when Dean’s arousal blossomed fully, and he let out a heady moan as Castiel fed him another bite, ice cream smearing his lips. He licked it off teasingly, being sure to catch Castiel’s eye to remind him of other things he liked to lick off his lips.

“We should go,” Castiel said softly. A wad of bills were left on the table and they were up and out of the restaurant, Castiel’s hand firm around Dean’s wrist, tugging him while Dean struggled to keep up, heavy and sleepy and dizzy from the food, wine, and Castiel’s unspoken promises.

Once they were outside, they turned the corner, around the back of the building where no one would see, and then they were gone, flown off on Castiel’s wings. Dean expected it, but he did not expect where they ended up. Usually, Castiel got him alone in a room in the same motel he was staying with Sam. This was not the dumpy motel.

Dean looked around through hazy eyes at the plush furniture, the wide expanse of the room, the enormous, inviting, king-sized bed. He slipped away from Castiel and staggered toward the bed, flopping onto it and burying his face in the fluffy pillows.

“This is so nice,” he mumbled into the pillows, wiggling and getting as comfortable as he could. He felt the bed dip and turned his head to see Castiel climbing onto the bed, his eyes locked on Dean. Dean’s pulse throbbed lazily in response.

“Tired?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said.

“Too tired?” Castiel asked, pushing a little more. Dean considered it a moment. How heavy his limbs were, and his eye lids. How full and sleepy he was after so much wine and rich food. But when he shifted, he felt the slide of the silk against his skin, the tightness of the corset holding him in, and that promise in Castiel’s eyes. All night, there had been promises there, and Dean’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Naw… just, wanna get out of these clothes, sir,” he said. The first words were still sleepy, quiet, but the last was clear and concise, no doubt or trepidation in it.

“That’s my boy,” Castiel said, his voice a low, pleased hum. He reached out for Dean, his fingers going to the buttons of Dean’s jacket and popping them loose one by one. He pushed it open and ran his fingers up and down Dean’s chest, over his shirt, but following the firm lines of the corset underneath. Dean reached up for the tie, but Castiel batted his hands away gently. “I will undress you.”

Dean murmured agreement, and Castiel continued with slow tenderness. The tie was unknotted carefully, and slipped free, a slinky sound of cloth rubbing against cloth. Castiel unbuttoned Dean’s shirt, pulled it out of his pants, and then pushed it off his shoulders with his jacket. Castiel’s eyes fixed on the pink corset binding Dean in, binding him into an hour-glass figure. For just a moment, he reached for Dean’s chest, tweaked two pert nipples jutting over the top of the corset, before retreating to Dean’s pants.

Obligingly, Dean lifted his hips when Castiel popped open his belt, button and fly, then slid them down. His fingers raked down Dean’s silk stocking covered thighs. He paused briefly to snap the garter belt, and Dean huffed out a chuckle from the barely-there-sting. Socks and shoes and the last of the pants were tugged down and tossed to the floor. Dean was left in nothing but the swath of pink silk and lace. Castiel took his time looking over him, smiling as Dean’s cheeks flushed red under his heated stare – not embarrassment, but arousal. His cock also flushed in response, straining against the almost too tiny panties, leaving a translucent wet spot where he leaked precum.

Keeping his eyes locked with Dean’s, Castiel lowered his head between Dean’s legs and nuzzled against the wet, tight material around Dean’s cock. Dean groaned and tried desperately to stay still, when all he wanted to do was grind his hips upward against Castiel’s mouth. Castiel smiled, a nod of approval and opened his mouth around Dean, suckling just the tip of his cock through the silk. Dean groaned louder, his hips stuttered more, trembling with the effort to stay still while Castiel used his mouth. Dean tried to heave in deep, calming breaths, to help him hold on, and to help him keep still, but the corset held him in, limited to shallow, quick pants of breath.

“Sir… the corset… can you…?” Dean gasped between breaths.

“Not yet,” Castiel said, nuzzling at Dean’s cock for another moment before he hooked his fingers around the waistband of Dean’s panties and started pulling them down. Dean’s erect cock flopped against his belly, the urethral plug jutting out of his slit glinting in the light. “How’s this feel?” Castiel asked, fingering the plug gently, rocking it back and forth.

“Fffffuck,” Dean huffed out, jutting his hips up against that intense feeling. “Full… I feel full, sir,” Dean whimpered. There was no other way to explain it. His ass was full of the plug, his cock with the sound, and even his stomach was almost achingly full, and all of it squeezed tightly inside him.

“Completely full?” Castiel asked lightly. “You couldn’t possibly want anything else inside you?” Castiel traced his fingers between Dean’s cheeks, teasing at the base of the plug. Dean’s eyes widened with surprise and delight, and he nodded eagerly.

“Your cock. I want you cock in me, sir,” Dean said clearly, with no hesitation in his voice. Surely, he’d been through enough already, and Castiel seemed to be in a gentle mood. Not a single reprimand all night, and Dean knew he hadn’t even been on his best behavior.

“Say please,” Castiel said while he reached for his belt buckle. Nothing else. He kept his suit jacket, tie, pants, even his shoes on. But the pants zipped open and he stroked his cock, rigid and upright while Dean watched him.

“Please sir, please. Want your cock in me. Wanna feel you fill me up, please sir?” Dean asked breathlessly and easily. Long ago he’d been desensitized from the embarrassment of begging. Castiel’s positive reinforcement had helped. It was always so good when he begged.

Castiel smiled approvingly, smeared lube on his fingers to spread over his cock while he knelt between Dean’s legs. Castiel kept his eyes on Dean, guiding his cock to nudge between Dean’s cheeks, next to the plug and pushing against it. He watched as Dean’s eyes first narrowed with confusion, then widened, on the verge of panic as Castiel continued to push, sliding his dick alongside the base of the plug, finding the tightest crevice to push inside.

“S-sir…” Dean stuttered, unsure. “The plug… It’s… you can’t…”

“I can,” Castiel said soothingly as he slid around the base of the plug, slipped past the impossible tight ring of muscle so the head of his cock was in. He watched as Dean’s voice caught in his throat, a surprised gasp at the incredible stretch.

“Can’t… I can’t…” Dean said, a thin reedy whine in his voice, on the verge of being overwhelmed. He was edging away, just slightly, not even aware of it, but Castiel held him close, caught his eyes again and kept them.

“You can,” Castiel said firmly, to give Dean courage. Then, more gently he added; “I won’t let this hurt you. You know how,” he said, to reassure him further. He was certain with a great deal of preparation, Dean could handle the girth of two cocks, and someday, he would certainly torment him through that preparation. But for that night, grace would do to ease his muscles, keep him relaxed and loose so he would not be injured. The stretch, the fullness, the intense pleasure would be all he would feel.

The panic in Dean’s eyes eased with the telltale tingle of Castiel’s grace, like warmth and pleasure, light against his skin. As Castiel pushed in further, spreading him wider around the plug and his cock, there was no pain, and the panic receded completely. Castiel kissed Dean’s forehead, a reward for his trust, even when his doubt had risen as well.

Dean’s protests disappeared, but so did his words. Pitiful whines and grunts escaped his lips with each gentle push as Castiel made his way deeper inside. He would pull out a little, spread more lube, then push in a little more, savoring Dean’s overwhelmed gasps. Castiel filled in the wordless noise with his own gentle, loving praise.

“Beautiful,” he would say, just barely above a whisper. “So proud of you,” he would go on. “Love you so much. Take it so beautifully. Love filling you up. Fill you with everything I have.”

Dean shook his head, a silent protest, a denial as Castiel praised him and covered him in adoration. “Stop,” he finally spit out, covering Castiel’s mouth to cease the compliments. But Castiel shook his head, nipped Dean’s hand in reprimand, and then pushed both hands over his head, holding them in place and leaving Dean stretched long and wide. He continued his praise, peppering kisses on Dean’s face and chest with each whispered word.

“Please… please stop…” Dean begged shakily. The compliments were more than enough. More than he needed. Castiel’s cock was enough. His mouth, and his hands, and his crystal clear orders. That was all Dean needed.

“Shush,” Castiel commanded, but Dean continued to beg. The panties, discarded on the side on the bed, were snatched up. Castiel rolled them into a tight ball, careful to have the wet patch of precome on the outside, and pressed it against Dean’s mouth. Dean whined, petulant suddenly once he realized his disobedience, but it was no good. He opened his mouth and the panties were shoved in, silencing him, forcing him to behave.

“You’re still my good boy,” Castiel said. “And I love you. Love you so much. So much more than anything else in my long existence.”

Dean groaned at the confession, punctuated by slow, deep stabs inside his body, pressing so far inside him he swore he could feel every pulsing line of Castiel’s cock. The fullness stretched against his skin, tight and inescapable. Castiel’s touch, his gaze, his unending words. There was nowhere else to go. Dean’s pleading groans took on a frantic tone around the panties in his mouth. The fullness was ready to burst out of him, achingly, explosively painful if it didn’t happen now, right now.

“Of course, my lovely boy,” Castiel whispered, a response to Dean’s thoughts that hadn’t even formed words. He touched Dean’s side, just where the edges of the corset’s ribbon started, and there was a sharp snap, then another, and another, so quickly, it was like ripping. Dean’s eyes went wide as the corset shredded under Castiel’s touch. Suddenly loosed, he dragged in a deep, heavy breath, his first all night. The simple pleasure of filling his lungs to capacity was dizzying. And then there was a further release, as Castiel reached for his cock, tugged on the thin plug there to pull it out. Dean was free, loosened from Castiel’s restrictive, loving embrace, and as he’d feared, he exploded. He let out a barely muffled yell around his gag, his whole body jerking wildly as he came, spurting come up against his chest, spattering and staining the front of his corset, streaks shooting up over his face. The release dragged on, pulse after excruciating pulse after he’d been held in for so long.

Time passed in skips and jumps. Castiel’s mouth was on him, and then there was a wet cloth. He was naked, stripped of every soft pink thing he’d had before. He was empty, no plugs, no cocks, not even the proof of Castiel’s release leaking hotly against his thigh. There were warm, dry sheets, soft pillows.

Dean finally felt able to move, raising his head groggily and loosely from the soft pillows and saw Castiel sitting up beside him, watching over him.

“Welcome back,” he said gently. His eyes were lit up with pride, and warmth, and the smoldering remains of that heated love from before. Their contact was bare, Castiel’s leg against his, his hand gently caressing Dean’s hair. Dean slid in closer for more, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist and nestling his head on Castiel’s thigh like a pillow. Dean reveled in the scent of Castiel, sweaty, and musky.

“Where do you come up with this shit?” Dean murmured, stretching languidly and shifting so all his weight wasn’t on his still full belly. He might have to skip breakfast in the morning.

“You know exactly where,” Castiel said, tugging Dean’s hair gently, then rubbing the ache in his scalp. “I know everything going on in here, and I know how to interpret it better than you do. Would you disagree with that?”

“No,” Dean said after slow deliberation. “I liked it. A lot,” he added more slowly. “Even… even the talking, at the end.”

“The part where I told you I love you? More than anything else in creation?”

“Mmm,” Dean murmured back. More words bubbled inside his brain, and he saw Castiel smile, knowing he was hearing those unspoken words, but that wasn’t fair. And it wasn’t enough. “I love you, too,” Dean said quietly, and was rewarded by a brighter smile, a glimmer of love in Castiel’s eyes.

~

The following morning, Dean woke up in the motel room in the bed next to Sam’s. Despite the sickening amount of food he’d eaten the night before, he had no heartburn, indigestion, or any other ill effects. Castiel must have taken care of that at some point in the night.

“So you and Cas?” Sam asked, and Dean was startled into full wakefulness. He hadn’t even heard Sam coming out of the bathroom.

“Yeah,” Dean said as casually as he could. He was still riding high on last night’s endorphins, still confident from all of Castiel’ praise. Awkward conversations be damned. “Got a problem with that?”

“Problem? Dean, I’m ecstatic. And it finally explains why you’ve been so smug and content the last few months. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Dunno,” Dean said with a shrug. “Wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

“Happy, that’s how,” Sam said with a genuine smile, curiosity lurking in his eyes. “So how was your date last night?”

“Fantastic,” Dean said, allowing himself a luxurious stretch, partially for the sake of loosening his muscles, but also to check and see if Castiel had actually dressed him the night before. The stretch let him know he had on some loose boxers, so it was safe to slip out of bed to grab a shower.

“Jesus! What are those marks on your back?” Sam exclaimed. Dean was nonplussed and turned his back to the mirror over the sink, craning his head over his shoulder and then turning bright red when he saw the criss-cross of the corset’s lacing leaving dark red marks on his skin.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered to himself, rubbing futilely at the red lashes on his skin, as if he could rub them away. “Must be uh, hives or something… Maybe from the shellfish I had last night.”

“Weird hives,” Sam said, though he seemed to buy Dean’s spluttered excuse. “There should be some antihistamines in the med kit. Better take them before we hit the road.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dean said, slipping gratefully into the bathroom and shutting the door so he could heave a relieved sigh in private. There was a reprieve now, but being trapped in a car for a few hours was sure to start the inquisition. Dean hopped in the shower and started to contemplate just what he would tell Sam, and what he would leave out.


End file.
